


is it love to keep it from you

by ryujinies



Category: ITZY (Band)
Genre: A lot of kissing, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Angst, Emotional Constipation, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Non-Linear Narrative, jisu does a lot of thinking, ryeji - Freeform, ryeji show up in the second part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28126875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryujinies/pseuds/ryujinies
Summary: “Jisu?” She whispered, still thumbing at the girl’s cheek. A gesture that was meant to be comforting only spread ache throughout Jisu’s chest.“Do you not want to marry me?”
Relationships: Choi Jisu | Lia/Lee Chaeryeong, Hwang Yeji/Shin Ryujin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mintbyul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintbyul/gifts), [ryuchaengs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuchaengs/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jisu?” She whispered, still thumbing at the girl’s cheek. A gesture that was meant to be comforting only spread ache throughout Jisu’s chest. 
> 
> “Do you not want to marry me?”

Winter had melted away into a hotter than usual spring a few weeks ago so Jisu isn’t entirely surprised when the heat wakes her up. She first notices that her clothes stick to her like glue, and then that she’s alone for the first time in a while.

It doesn’t bother her. It doesn’t, really.

But she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t miss hearing the deep breaths in her ear like on the winter mornings when the two often woke up curled into each other. When the room would be so cold—the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and could only be remedied by Chaeryeong’s body heat mixed with her own. A mess of limbs and thick blankets tangled up in their bed; arms stretched out, pulling the other back into bed for _just five more minutes_ lying together. 

Though she knows she should expect this, it is spring after all. Jisu tries to calm her heart as she pats the empty space next to her and looks fondly at the messy, untucked cover. She fixes her mouth to tut at how forgetful the other girl is, but decides against it. There would be no real malice behind it anyway. 

Instead, she smooths the duvet out before crawling out of bed, stretching until she feels ready to finally get out of bed. 

Jisu busies herself getting ready, her mind wandering to what she’s going to bake. She doesn’t have to go into the shop today, but she still feels the need to make _something._ Especially now that she’s definitely going to have a hungry girl to feed later, not that it’s a bother.

Ever since Jisu was young, she’s thought baking is the loveliest thing in the world. There was nothing that made her happier than feeling the flour between her fingers as she helped her mom in the kitchen. On those Sunday mornings when there wasn’t anything she’d rather do than make a walnut pie, or a birthday cake, or cookies. Her mom would instruct her carefully on how things should be done, the clean way, the right way. 

She raised Jisu to always have a plan, and for the most part, she always has. She found little happinesses in these plans, in these recipes. There was nothing she loved more. 

Baking has always been more than just the physical act of baking for Jisu. It’s also the clearing of the counters, pulling ingredients down from the cupboards, and the precision to detail needed lest your plan fall through. Because that’s what it is: a plan, and a symphony, if you make it so. 

Jisu knows that, she knows that well enough to have perfected it into a lifestyle. 

––

When Jisu hired Yuna she was a bright-eyed sophomore on a volleyball scholarship at the college down the street. Honestly, she was younger than Jisu had hoped for in an employee, but she was also desperate. Money was tight back then and at the time, Jisu was working day in day out trying to make ends meet. Most ins started at four in the morning and outs not until eleven at night, and at some point, it did become overwhelming. 

There simply weren’t enough hours in the day, or enough Jisu, or something in between the two that made her realize she couldn’t run the bakery by herself. 

Yuna’s smile was wide and gummy and it made customers want to stay a little while longer. She could talk anyone into buying more than they had originally intended to and she was smart. So yes, she was a bit younger than Jisu had hoped for as an employee, but she really did prove herself useful. 

And Yuna was fun, moreover, she was _funny._ The feeling she carried with her lingered long after she had left, it really wasn’t hard to like the younger girl. She made the days feel shorter, and looking back on it, Jisu doesn’t think she could have made it through such busy days without her chatter and games.

One game in particular became their favorite pastime on the not-so-busy days. 

Whenever a customer would walk into the shop, Yuna would lean over and whisper a baked good into Jisu’s ear and sometimes, she’d be spot on. Because yes, the woman that just walked in with her poodle _does_ look like she’d buy a few chocolate eclairs. 

Though, other times Yuna would say something that the older girl just felt was wrong. She couldn’t explain why, but when she told Yuna her two cents, she was always right. 

“How are you so good at that?” Yuna would ask after ringing up the customer, arms crossed over her chest. 

Jisu would laugh and shrug her shoulders. It was always just a feeling. 

––

The kitchen is as empty as her bedroom, but the noise coming from outside the open window lets Jisu know she isn’t alone. 

Sunlight gleams through the open window above the counter, drawing Jisu closer. She looks out into the garden, scanning the area until she finds her girlfriend tending to the mint she’s been growing. 

It looks like it’s growing well, peeking out over the edges of the pot Chaeryeong keeps it in. She remembers then that the girl had also dried a few leaves and put them away for some tea. Jisu decides she’ll make some for them when Chaeryeong comes in. 

There’s this familiar swell of fondness that grows in her throat as she leans against the counter. She wants to call out for Chaeryeong, have her turn and smile at her so sweetly like she knows she would, like she always has. Maybe she’d wave and walk over, kiss her square on the mouth just for good measure. And Jisu would fall into her, her lips, her voice, her smile—her. 

The thought turns something rich in her stomach, but at the same time, she thinks she’d like to just watch her like this for a little while longer. The other girl hasn’t noticed Jisu peeking from the window yet so she takes her time admiring her girlfriend. Chaeryeong is hunched over her garden, watering some of the potted plants and singing as she does. Her voice carries throughout the backyard and into Jisu’s ears. It sounds like honey, Jisu wants to wrap herself in it. 

She loves Chaeryeong like this—in her element. She loves Chaeryeong all the time, but this version of the girl will always remind Jisu of how she looked when they first met. A little breathless and sweaty from the hot sun, and beautiful, always beautiful. A small smile perched on her lips that let you know she was content with where she was and what she was doing. 

When they were searching for a house, Jisu made sure to look for one with a big backyard space where Chaeryeong could do as she pleased. Of course, a bigger backyard meant a smaller kitchen, but it was a compromise she was willing to make. Anything to see Chaeryeong fully immersed in her garden, singing and smiling like she didn’t know how to do anything else. 

The younger girl has a big straw hat perched on her head as she usually does when gardening. The light blue ribbon that is a little worn from overuse is half-heartedly tied under her chin and her dark auburn hair is pulled back in a ponytail. 

A few strands manage their way out and fall onto the girl’s face. It reminds Jisu of just the night before, when Chaeryeong’s hair fanned out on the pillow below her as Jisu’s fingers ran down the expanse of her ribcage. The two were pressed flat against each other, Jisu’s head stuffed into the crook of Chaeryeong’s neck. 

And Jisu could feel each breath the girl under her took. She even caught herself trying to match the rhythm, pressing a hand softly to Chaeryeong’s heart and breathing in time with it. The ginger just pressed a long kiss to Jisu’s shoulder in response, smiling into the skin and whispering something lovely in her ear. 

Jisu vividly remembers feeling overwhelmed; it felt so _so_ good to be loved so kindly after a long day. A customer had bitched to her about one of the menu items being overpriced (it wasn’t), and Chaeryeong knew exactly how to help the older unwind when her shoulders became too heavy and the crease between her brows just wouldn’t seem to go away. 

It was as simple as a few gentle kisses in the right places, a sweet grin, and words that Chaeryeong knew Jisu needed in that moment. Suddenly, it would all melt away until the only thing her mind cared about was Chaeryeong’s heart-shaped lips mouthing sweet nothings on her bare skin. 

In many ways, Jisu was still trying to come to terms with how much luck this world had granted her. 

That night, Jisu had cupped her girlfriend’s face in her hand as the other girl stared up at her, a question and something that looked vaguely of endearment in her eyes. The moonlight that stemmed in from their window showed Jisu the softest reflection of Chaeryeong, splayed out on their bed and it made her want to hold her closer, feel all of her become all of Chaeryeong’s and lie content with it all. 

Jisu never wanted to leave that moment, she wished time had just stood still for a little while longer. She wanted to commit every detail to memory, she wanted to always have that image of Chaeryeong looking so pretty under her. 

She brought her hand up to trace the outline of the other girl’s face. She knew they were already as close as they could be, but she wanted to be closer. She wanted more, always wanted more of Chaeryeong. She’s the girl Jisu will never stop chasing.

Her touch was light as she dragged over her skin, like how you’d touch porcelain. Each place Jisu’s finger traced, a kiss followed like an apology and a promise. The shell of Chaeryeong’s ear, the space between her eyes, the mole that sits on her chin. (And God, does Jisu love that mole on Chaeryeong’s chin). Eventually, her lips. 

She felt Chaeryeong smile into the kiss and relished in the feeling of the younger’s teeth on her lips for a moment. It reminded her of their first kiss. 

Five years ago, when they weren’t exactly dating yet, but they _were_ hanging out every day, they had started watching this drama together. One that Jisu, at the time, really wanted to finish before Chaeryeong went back home to her family for the holidays. They both decided that the only reasonable solution was to station themselves on that dingy little couch in Chaeryeong’s small apartment and binge it all. 

It was only about one character death in when Jisu had lost all interest in the plot entirely and she had turned to tell Chaeryeong so. She found that the other girl had already been looking at her, eyes so soft and that same smile she always seemed to be wearing when their eyes happened to meet. Jisu knew it was gonna happen then.

They still argue about who leaned in first, Jisu is sure it was Chaeryeong and the younger says differently. The details are too far and hard to remember now, but Jisu will never, for as long as her heart still beats, forget the feeling of Chaeryeong’s smile pressed against her own. 

She did the same thing just then in their bed, fingers playing on the skin of Jisu’s tummy and it made Jisu melt, putty in Chaeryeong’s hands. _I love you,_ She whispered into her mouth, _I love you, only you._

She doesn’t know how long they stayed like that for, or when the toothy kisses melted into something slower and sweeter before they eventually stopped. Jisu’s head rested on Chaeryeong’s chest as she played with the younger girl’s fingers, her eyes drooping shut. She could feel sleep weighing on her. Jisu wished time had stopped for them. 

Chaeryeong broke the silence.

“Jisu?” It wasn’t exactly a whisper, but it was soft enough to pass as one. There was something else in Chaeryeong’s tone that put the other girl on a little edge. 

“Hm?” She responded. 

The ginger tangled her fingers into Jisu’s hair, scratching softly at her scalp. Jisu hummed again, pressing up into the touch. “Do you ever want to get married?” 

Oh. Jisu sucked in a deep breath and turned the question over in her mouth, frowning when it ended up tasting sour. For reasons unknown to her, it turned something rotten in the pit of Jisu’s stomach, and stupidly she said the first thing that came to mind.

“To you?”

“To who else?” Chaeryeong chuckled, tucking a strand behind Jisu’s ear. The brunette nuzzled into the hand like it was second nature, pressing her lips to the palm. 

The other girl smiled at her and tried again, “Seriously though, have you ever thought about it? Marriage?” 

Of course she had, from time to time. An idea that she had entertained growing up for the far off future with no one specific. It was in the plan. She would get married after her business was stable, when she could take a week off and not be worried sick over the whole place burning down. As she thought about it more, however, she realized that point had passed two years ago. 

It was in the plan, she promised. But just…not with Chaeryeong. It never even crossed her mind after she began dating Chaeryeong. They were too caught up with the now, all the moments spent together that could only be felt at full capacity once. Or at least Jisu was, it seemed Chaeryeong had been living in the now and the future. 

Marriage… The idea makes Jisu’s head spin. It was in the plan, so why did it feel so sudden? Why had she forgotten?

Jisu squeezed her eyes shut and hoped Chaeryeong couldn’t tell she was stalling. She prayed for kindness, that Chaeryeong would remain oblivious to how hard her heart was beating right now. She hoped the other girl couldn’t feel her shaky lips pressed to the inside of her palm. She didn’t want her to know how scared she was, how unsure she was. 

But of course she did, because she was Chaeryeong. Her girlfriend of five years, going on six. Chaeryeong who has seen panic in Jisu’s eyes more times than she can count from the months when the bakery wasn’t fairing well. Chaeryeong who knows what it looks like when she commits to an idea, headstrong and passion burning in her eyes. Chaeryeong who knows her better than Jisu cared to admit. 

So when Jisu found the courage to look back up at her, she wasn’t too surprised to see her confusion clouding her face. 

“Jisu?” She whispered, still thumbing at the girl’s cheek. A gesture that was meant to be comforting only spread ache throughout Jisu’s chest. 

“Do you not want to marry me?” 

Her voice was steady, but Jisu could still hear how hurt she was by Jisu’s answer, or lack thereof. _I’m terrible,_ Jisu thought, _I am so fucking terrible._

Jisu felt her lips part, ready to mollify her girlfriend’s nerves. Maybe tell her a half-truth that could very well later on be a full-truth, or maybe promise her something she couldn’t be sure would ever come true. It would appease Chaeryeong for now, but Jisu knew it wouldn’t make things better. It wouldn’t fix things, the seed of doubt had already been planted when she failed to answer the first time and no lie would be able to change that. 

“I don’t know,” She whispered back eventually, voice thick with guilt. 

Jisu watched her girlfriend’s face crumble. It was a reflection of her own. Though it was brief, Jisu doesn’t think she had ever seen Chaeryeong look so hurt, especially not from something she’d done. The younger was pretty good at sharing how she felt with Jisu. If there was anything that Jisu had ever done that bothered Chaeryeong in a way she couldn’t shake, they took care of it together. That’s just how they worked, that’s how they said they’d always work. 

Jisu would’ve known if she had ever felt like this before. But she had never, in their five years of dating, seen that look on Chaeryeong’s face. Awful wasn’t the word for what Jisu was feeling. 

The look was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Before she could even open her mouth, the beginnings of an apology on her lips, Chaeryeong was smiling softly at her again. She leaned up to press their lips together for just a moment before pulling away, mouth hovering on Jisu’s. She whispered, “It’s okay.” 

Jisu had never felt like crying more. 

She tried again, “I’m sor—” 

“Hey,” Chaeryeong chided gently, not letting the older get another syllable in, “It’s okay. If you’re happy, we’re okay.” 

Jisu had wanted to ask if Chaeryeong was happy. If she could be okay with no wedding, no gathering of friends and family, no life-long commitment on paper. If she could _really_ live with Jisu never wanting to get married, or at least the uncertainty of not knowing if Jisu wants to get married. 

She looked at Chaeryeong again, the younger was trying so hard to keep it together. Her bottom lip trembled slightly in her smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She wasn’t happy, Jisu could tell. Jisu wanted her to be happy, she wanted to ask Chaeryeong if she could be happy like this, if they could be happy together without marriage. If just being with her was enough. 

But Jisu soon realized that she didn’t really want to hear her answer. 

Instead, she leaned into the younger girl and kissed her. She pressed into her lips with so much force, she thought she heard their teeth clash, and it wasn’t the same as before, but it didn’t matter. Because if she could feel her lips on Chaeryeong’s, she was sure nothing would matter anymore. If she could press her fingers into the flesh of Chaeryeong’s cheeks then her mind would stop whirring and the guilt would melt away. This was how it worked. 

Chaeryeong reacted slowly, steadying the older with her hands and pressing up into the kiss. It was desperate and they both knew it; Jisu kissed with all of the fury and passion and years and years of loving Chaeryeong. 

The years of impromptu dates and honeyed words whispered into warm skin. The years spent waiting; waiting for the right time to kiss her, to ask her out, to say I love you, to move in together. The years of nursing Chaeryeong back to health when she’d gotten the flu every winter, and the years of wiping away tears on the stressful days of grad school finals and too-soon-deadlines and unsuccessful job interviews. Jisu kissed all of it into Chaeryeong’s mouth while the ginger grounded her, fingers pressing so deep into her hips, she was sure it would leave marks. 

She thought it just wouldn’t matter anymore. 

The guilt did ease up, the kisses taking over their focus. And although the _I love you_ s didn’t sit as kindly on her tongue as it had before, Jisu found that it was easy to lose herself in the feeling of Chaeryeong. She could feel her heartbeat warm on her chest. It was painfully familiar now, it was something she’d lay up at night and match the rhythm to when they first moved in together. She knew her heartbeat was something she could hold on to when she needed it. It confirmed what Jisu hoped would always be true: Chaeryeong was here. 

––

Jisu woke up alone, but the memory makes a blush creep onto her cheeks now, along with a shy smile. Little moments like that always leave Jisu with this intrusive feeling, as if how they love each other is clandestine. Only for them to know and even the memories of it are forbidden. 

But Chaeryeong’s words still sit in the center of her chest. Does she ever want to get married? It wasn’t a part of the plan. No, it was. It had just been erased and rewritten. In its place was just Chaeryeong’s name written thirty times over. That’s all that mattered to Jisu, being by her side for as long as she would have her. 

She turns her attention back to the girl. From what Jisu can see, her jeans are caked in mud from gardening all morning and a gleam of sweat can be spotted on her forehead. She watches as the younger absently wipes her cheek, leaving a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Jisu laughs. 

Chaeryeong is so messy. Jisu is used to messy, baking is messy but Chaeryeong is a different kind of messy. She is muddy boots on your marble floor and gardening tools on the kitchen table. It would bother Jisu, a lot actually, if she didn’t find all of her mess and idiosyncrasies so endearing. 

Chaeryeong was easy. Jisu always thought easy was bad; it meant she wasn’t pushing herself hard enough. She wasn’t following the plan if things were easy, but then she met Chaeryeong. 

As soon as the girl had walked into Jisu’s bakery with a smile that flowers could sprout from and a laugh she hid behind her hands, Jisu just _knew_ what she would order. She smelled like the earth and laughed like love. Jisu could hear sweet jazz crooning through a field when she smiled so kindly as she stepped up to the counter. Just being near her made Jisu so physically weak in the knees, Yuna had shot her a look and asked if she was okay, but Jisu could hardly hear her because all she could think of were lemon muffins. 

Chaeryeong is lemon muffins through and through. The possibilities that lemon muffins held were endless, but they were easy to make, and that was Chaeryeong, all muddy pant legs and saccharine smiles. 

She can hear the orchestra in her mind play the symphony it had become accustomed to as she zested the lemons from the tree Chaeryeong had planted shortly after they moved in together. The way Jisu works is quick, moving as if this recipe is hardwired into her. In a way, it is. Once Chaeryeong realized dating Jisu meant all the lemon muffins she wanted, she fully utilized and abused that power. But it wasn’t much of a chore anyway. 

It never felt like work. Even though it was her _job_ to bake, making things for Chaeryeong on her downtime never felt like something she was forced to do. It came easily when it was for Chaeryeong, when it was with Chaeryeong. 

Would marriage be the same? Could it be as simple as just something she did with Chaeryeong? Moreover, could she be happy that way? It’s so stupid to think about it like this because marriage _is_ something Jisu had planned. She could see herself getting married eventually, but the idea of it being with Chaeryeong… It didn’t excite her like it should have and that made her feel sick. 

Sometime after putting the tray of batter into the oven, Jisu finds herself back at the window, staring out at Chaeryeong who is now just sitting on the ground. Next to her are some fruits and herbs in a basket. The girl looks deep in thought, her nose scrunched up a little as she takes inventory of the things she’s bringing inside. 

Jisu admires her from where she’s standing and thinks about what could be so bad about marrying Chaeryeong. There’s an echo of an idea in the back of her head, but nothing concrete comes to mind. 

_Nothing,_ Jisu thinks, _there would be nothing bad about marrying Chaeryeong_. 

Still, she can’t shake the thought that if they did get married, she wouldn’t be doing it because she wants to. And that just makes her feel worse. She knows that isn’t something Chaeryeong would want; the younger girl would never force Jisu into anything, nevermind a marriage, but was marriage something Chaeryeong needed? 

She knows her girlfriend well. She’s stubborn, stupidly so, and when she wants something, she tends to take it. Chaeryeong isn’t the type to sit by idly, letting their love turn into resentment. If marriage is something Chaeryeong needs, she knows she’d find it, even if it wasn’t with her. 

Eventually Chaeryeong looks up from gardening and despite the thoughts running around in her head, Jisu feels her heart stutter as it has time and time again. It reminds her that this is real. What they have and are right now is real as it always has been. It has to be enough for right now. 

When their eyes meet, Jisu smiles.

For the first time that Jisu can remember, Chaeryeong doesn’t smile back. Not sweetly at least, not like how she thought she would, like how she normally would. There isn’t a wave, and she doesn’t walk over and kiss her square on the mouth. She doesn’t do any of it. 

Her lips stay pressed into a line as she shoots Jisu a small smile before turning back to her work. Jisu grips tightly onto the counter and wills herself to not think too deeply on it. All they have is right now, it has to be enough. 

The oven goes off. She goes to check on the muffins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part one of two! please let me know what you think! my twitter is @ryejiau and my curiouscat is curiouscat.qa/ryejiau


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s sad to say that Jisu likes the look in her girlfriend’s eyes. It’s hurt, so clearly it’s hurt, but it bleeds in a way that let’s Jisu know Chaeryeong still cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is hardly proofread; i really just needed it gone. i hope someone enjoys it anyway lol. i won’t be uploading any more fics to this acc!  
> i didn’t know how to dedicate this separate chapter to someone but it would be dedicated to @ryuchaengs for always pushing me to write and then always pushing me to stop. and also giving me feedback on this. thnx bestie!

Jisu knows that these plans in some way hinder her. They don’t allow her to do _everything_ she would like to. 

Like how she couldn’t take that Advanced Music Theory course because it would’ve interfered with the classes for her double major in Culinary and Business. Exploring music was always something she wanted to do in college, even if it was just a club, but because she had fulfilled those credits in high school, it would’ve been out of the way to take that class. So she didn’t. 

Anything that would’ve set Jisu back was simply an expense she couldn’t afford. 

Ryujin once told her that her plan wouldn’t always work; that life wouldn’t always be as simple as things written on a list waiting to be checked off. At the time, Jisu had just laughed at the younger girl and rolled her eyes, ignoring the pained expression on the younger’s face. Because _what does Ryujin know? She watches anime._

Now though, she thinks that maybe Ryujin was right. She’s stuck to the plan all this time and things have still managed to go so horribly fucking wrong. 

—

The muffins go untouched that day, and for several days after that. Eventually, Jisu has to throw them out in fear of mold or bugs. 

Logically, she knows something is wrong but if there’s a clear way to fix it, it’s lost on her. Usually if they had a problem, one, usually Chaeryeong, would tell the other what was wrong and they’d figure it out together. Jisu wasn’t the best at expressing herself. Sometimes, not even realizing something was upsetting her _until_ Chaeryeong would ask in that gentle voice of hers, “What’s wrong, my love?” 

And she’d end up spilling her guts, maybe days worth of frustrations tumbling from her lips that she hadn’t known had accumulated. This time around, Jisu knows there’s a problem, but it isn’t really a problem that Jisu can name and fix as easily. It’s just little things. 

It’s Chaeryeong not coming to bed until Jisu is already asleep, and leaving before she even gets up for work in the morning. The only sign of her even sleeping in their bed being the messy, untucked cover. She doesn’t come around the bakery anymore on her breaks from work and her absence doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. When Yuna asked her about it, Jisu had to fake a smile and tell her that Chaeryeong was just really busy these days. She didn’t think the younger girl bought it, but Yuna knew better than to push it. 

It felt weird to be away from Chaeryeong for so long. They’d grown used to their routine of coming home to each other; on a good day, Chaeryeong would be making dinner for the two of them by the time Jisu arrived from the bakery and they’d eat together at their small kitchen table, talking about any and everything before retiring to bed and maybe watching an episode or two of whatever show they were obsessed with. On another, slightly less good day, when they were both working late, they’d rely on leftovers or order takeout and eat themselves content on the floor of their bedroom and pass out right after. 

Lonely wasn’t the word for what Jisu felt without Chaeryeong’s everbright presence by her side throughout the days. Condemning, maybe. Tearing her apart, certainly. 

One night, after four nights of falling asleep without Chaeryeong there, Jisu had stayed up later than she normally would. She had to open the bakery early in the morning, but she hadn’t been sleeping too well anyway. She never did when Chaeryeong wasn’t there. 

The right side of their bed felt more than empty without the younger’s nighttime banter. Usually, she would lay down and just talk about her day—the sweet couple she had met that morning at the nursery, that Chaeyeon said hi when she stopped by after work, and how she loved the mocha bread Jisu had snuck in with her lunch. 

And Jisu would listen, verging off of the left side of the bed to lean her head on Chaeryeong’s shoulder. Feeling Chaeryeong’s words spread throughout her chest on those nights felt like fire, the low hum of her voice creeping in and warming up what had started to feel so cold in her absence. 

-

Now, everything feels cold, like winter all over again. There are snowy peaks all over their room, icicles lining every corner and Chaeryeong has left Jisu to bear it all alone. And maybe Jisu deserves just that, she thought as she waited for Chaeryeong. Because if Jisu wasn’t providing what the younger needed to get through this, then Chaeryeong would probably be better off without her. Better off with someone else, someone who could give her what she wants. Someone who could make her happy without compromise. 

It was half-past one in the morning when Chaeryeong walked through their bedroom door. The silence hung stiff in the air as Chaeryeong stood frozen in the doorway, clearly not expecting Jisu to still be up from the way her eyes widened. 

Jisu took in her appearance with gentle eyes: she looked rough, eyebags that were never there before sat deep and purple under Chaeryeong’s teary eyes. Jisu didn’t know if that was from crying or the harsh winter that was their room, but the pain Jisu was feeling looking at her felt nothing short of frostbite. Numbing. Pins and needles settling over her skin as she realized Chaeryeong refused to meet her gaze. 

Her body stood so rigid and it was so painfully unfamiliar to Jisu that she almost reached out for the younger, wanting to feel her relax once more in her arms. Chaeryeong broke the silence before Jisu could. 

“You’re up late.” Her voice was hoarse, like it had gone unused for days. 

“I was waiting for you.”

Chaeryeong didn’t respond to that. She didn’t move closer either, just watched her girlfriend from where she stood and said nothing. 

When Jisu decided she couldn’t do the distance anymore, that it physically pained her to not be touching her right now, she silently beckoned Chaeryeong over to the bed. She wasn’t sure of what to say but she knew she needed her close badly. The ginger gnawed on her lips until they looked unnaturally red before crossing the room, slowly crawling onto the bed. 

It was easy how their bodies molded to fit each other, as if they could never forget one another. Jisu’s head rested on Chaeryeong’s chest and a hand went to the small of Jisu’s back, rubbing small circles into the skin. A small shudder ran down the older girl’s spine at the touch, something she hadn’t felt in a while but welcomed nonetheless, maybe even yearned for it. No, definitely yearned for it. Jisu found herself squeezing Chaeryeong’s hand in her own just to make sure that she was real and not some twisted dream. 

Chaeryeong was as real as ever, and yet, everything was still cold. 

“I’m sorry,” Jisu tried after a while of quiet, looking up to search the younger’s eyes for something, anything. 

Sorry seemed like the wrong thing to say from the way Chaeryeong tensed under her. She waited a beat, maybe two or three before she responded. 

“For what, Jisu?” Her tone was low, but sharp. “Do you even know?”

The words felt like a knife, one that Chaeryeong had dug into the rawest parts of Jisu’s chest. Usually, when they fought it was emotional, they love each other deeply, it was bound to be. Their words would burn in their throats and tears flowed hot down their faces, but they would say everything they needed to say to each other. 

This version of Chaeryeong, however, felt emotionless and distant. She no longer clung to Jisu like she had all those times before, begging for them to _talk_ to fix whatever had gone wrong because they’re _better than petty arguments,_ because they’re _bigger than the little things._ It was hard to believe she was the same girl at all. 

Jisu found that she didn’t really know what to do with this version of Chaeryeong. She was emotionally constipated, for lack of better words, she’s known this ever since high school. And Chaeryeong had never failed to make up emotionally and sensitively whatever Jisu lacked, filling in the gaps until everything clicked. She thought that’s what made them perfect for each other. 

Jisu opened her mouth to answer the girl’s question, but suddenly felt at a loss for words. _For not knowing if I want to get married? For not being what you want? For not telling you any of this?_ She let her mouth close. Chaeryeong sighed, she looked tired. 

Softly, she asked,“What do you want, Jisu?”

“I want you,” Jisu answered without pause, though her voice sounded a little choked up from the unshed tears that stung her eyes and the lump sitting heavy in her throat. “I want you. That’s it, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“No, that’s not enough for me. That’s not an answer.”

“Chaeryeong…” Jisu didn’t know what else to say, her hands hovered in the open space between them. She had felt the ice slide down her back, a rude awakening that said _‘You don’t have this part planned.’_

“What do you want?” Chaeryeong asked again, sitting up in their bed. “Please, just tell me. I can’t know if you don’t tell me.” 

“I’m sorry. I love you,” Jisu begged, for what, however, she didn’t know. “Please.” 

“I can't do the uncertainty, Jisu.”

Maybe she should have, but Jisu didn’t stop Chaeryeong when she left and didn’t come back that night. 

-

Jisu tries not to dwell on it. Running the bakery has kept her busy too. She hasn’t had time to think about Chaeryeong, or at least that's what she’ll tell herself.

She worked hard to open her shop and get it off the ground, really fucking hard and she did it by herself too, nothing but her plan accompanying her for the bulk of it. And when it became overwhelming, as all new businesses do, her mom had come out to the city to help before Jisu decided to hire Yuna. 

The whole business felt more like a dream than anything to her. It _was_ a dream to her. To have made her favorite pastime into a career is rare, she’s aware of that. She’s watched her friends start and restart and search and grovel in countless endeavors, hoping one sticks. She’s watched as they hardly ever did. 

Just last year, she saw Ryujin and Yeji struggle to keep their dance studio open. It was an impulsive business decision on their part; they both refused to confide in her about it before opening, and what had once been a booming upstarter became a vacant lot, waiting to be sold. The couple hadn’t managed their finances well enough to stay open during the dry seasons and the lulls. It was hard on them, she saw how badly they were hurting and offered as much help as she could. 

But sometimes, that’s just how things go. Things don’t do well without planning. Jisu knows she’s lucky and she cherishes the fact every single day and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone take that away from her. 

The plan works. 

_She just needs time to cool off,_ Jisu reasoned with herself when her mind verged off onto all things Chaeryeong as it often did, _things will get better._

—

It’s been almost a week since that night and things don’t seem to be getting any better. 

Jisu hasn’t cried about it yet, she hasn’t had the time. When she’s here at the bakery, doing the work that she knows will never fail her, Jisu can act like she’s not bothered by it. Like wondering why Chaeryeong hasn’t texted her back doesn’t consume her. Like the reason she stops herself from spamming the younger’s phone is out of respect for her space and not because she’s afraid of any answer Chaeryeong could give her. It’s very easy to pretend when you’re baking, but of course, she’s thought about it. 

She has felt the weight of tears heavy in her eyes as she laid in their bed, waiting up for Chaeryeong only for the girl to never come. (After that one night, she simply stopped coming home). She attempted texting her, typing up several different versions of the same thing until she finally came up with something she thought was good enough, and then deleted it. Still, she doesn’t cry. 

—

It’s a rainy Tuesday when Jisu finally finds some time in her busy (read: not really busy) schedule to meet with Yeji and Ryujin. It’s a small diner that she and Ryujin used to frequent back when they were still in college and it’s become a fond hang out spot whenever they have the time. 

Jisu, by chance, arrives earlier than the couple. Usually, she would waltz in a few minutes late, the two girls shrugging off her apologies since they both know how Chaeryeong is. So the shock on their faces when they see Jisu already sitting here, hands wrapped around a mug and waiting, is very evident. And Jisu should’ve seen the question coming, but she doesn’t. It slaps her right across the face when Ryujin tilts her head questioningly and asks where Chaeryeong is. 

That’s when it all comes down on her in waves, one after the other, bounding into and out of her at full force. For a moment, she feels like she can’t breathe. It all suddenly becomes _way too much._ Because she doesn't know where Chaeryeong is and she hasn’t been able to say that in _years._ Not since they moved in together and probably not since they started seriously dating. 

Chaeryeong has always been the type to keep Jisu informed, even when the older never asked. She didn’t want her to worry, even when Jisu never did. Somehow over the years, it just became natural for her to know where Chaeryeong was, or at least have a vague idea. Now, sitting here with tears finally spilling down her face, she realizes that she hasn’t the faintest clue where Chaeryeong is and a wave of worry and guilt rushes over her. 

“Jisu?” Ryujin says, eyebrows knitting together, “Are you okay?”

Jisu spills her guts, telling the couple everything that has happened in the last week. The conversation, the moment in the garden, how Chaeryeong has been avoiding her since—all of it.

And when she’s done, she looks up at them and sees Yeji frown so deeply, it startles Ryujin who is sitting next to her in the booth they’re occupying. Yeji is arguably the closest to Chaeryeong out of the couple, having known her since they were kids. Jisu had only met Yeji after Chaeryeong and she had already started dating, and Ryujin met Yeji through Jisu. 

They’re not as close as Chaeryeong and her are, but Jisu still considers Yeji a good friend, one of her best even. So Jisu waits for her to say something about the situation, maybe explain where Chaeryeong has been this last week. She was probably with Yeji, Jisu realizes, she usually is in her free time if she’s not with Jisu. The thought almost feels like a slap in the face, having bared her heart right in the middle of this 24-hour diner when Yeji probably already knew the half of it. But Jisu has never been one to hold a grudge and she thinks she could use the older girl’s advice so she doesn’t say what she’s thinking. 

Yeji doesn’t tell her what she wants to hear, she’s never really been one to do so. It makes Jisu a little angry if she’s being honest. Yeji takes a breath. 

“Jisu,” The eldest girl says with a grave look on her face, “Haven't you guys talked about it?” 

Jisu knows what _it_ is without her even saying. The question feels like a rock has been dropped in the pit of Jisu’s stomach. It leaves her feeling unsettled in her own skin. Is it that simple? Has it always been? 

_Did we ever talk about marriage?_

She knows the answer, but she still takes a moment to think about it. The conversation should’ve come up somewhere in the duration of their relationship. But as she flips through the memories of the last few years in her head, all she sees are flashes of smiling faces pressed together and Sunday mornings teaching Chaeryeong how to bake. 

On one Sunday in particular, when fall was slowly creeping into winter, the two girls stood in the kitchen of Jisu’s one-bedroom apartment. They were two years into their relationship, spending a lot of their free time together in between their busy schedules. That day’s menu was just sugar cookies, but they had fun the whole time they were making it. Chaeryeong kept trying to eat the cookie icing and Jisu had to pull her away several times. 

“We aren’t gonna have enough for the cookies if you keep doing that,” Jisu sighed after pulling the pipe of icing away from the younger girl’s lips for the fourth time. “You’re messing it up.”

“Yeah, well,” Chaeryeong shrugged and smiled cheekily, “Life doesn’t always go as planned so suck it up, Champ.”

Any answer Jisu could’ve given gets caught in the back of her throat. She screwed her face up instead and said nothing. Jisu stared at the, now, only somewhat full pastry bag. She knew she could very easily make more, but it was the principle behind it. 

She wasn’t actually mad, but she thought she might pout a little more just to tease Chaeryeong. Jisu waited for the other girl to apologize, at least fake it maybe, but the taller didn’t take the bait at all. 

Instead, she had tilted the elder’s chin up in her hand and slotted their lips together. It was instinctive the way they leaned into each other—a performance they had practiced plenty. Chaeryeong’s mouth tasted like the icing, warm and sweet on the tip of Jisu’s tongue and the older girl reveled in it. She pressed further into her girlfriend’s chest, cold fingers teasing the skin just beneath the hem of Chaeryeong’s cream sweater. 

And when Chaeryeong pulled away, Jisu found herself absently chasing after her lips. Her brain too fuzzy and gone, entirely too focused on all things Chaeryeong. Jisu scowled at the girl’s face when she noticed the smug look on her face, and playfully pushed her away. 

“You’re so annoying,” She said, rolling her eyes, turning back to the cookies. 

Chaeryeong’s laugh filled the apartment, the sound pulling on Jisu’s heartstrings. Jisu had never heard a laugh so sincere in every way conceivable. And she was beautiful—all pouty lips and flushed cheeks and eyes that made you want to stay close. She was the prettiest girl Jisu had ever seen; so maybe that’s why when Chaeryeong pulled her into her side again, Jisu let her. The younger murmured fake apologies into Jisu’s temple, kissing there softly between her words.

Then, quietly, “You still love me anyway, right?” 

A smal, barely noticeable gasp escaped Jisu’s mouth. They had long since exchanged their first _I love you_ s, but each time still felt so raw. Jisu had said it to other people, thought she had felt it with other people, but not like this she thought. Everything else pales in comparison to this love. It’s so cheesy and the mere thought of it made her blush, but she meant it. 

And Chaeryeong knew this. But it wasn’t unlike her to ask again, like how one would check to see if they’ve locked the front door even though they just did. Just to make sure, just to be safe and maybe Jisu should have put more thought into why that was, but she never did. Instead, each time, with her heartbeat in her ears, Jisu would answer with something like, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Forever?” Chaeryeong pushed it, cupping the other’s face now as she pressed their foreheads together. There was a teasing lilt to her voice, but some part of Jisu knew that she was really asking, a little insecurity seeping through her words. 

“Yeah,” Jisu sighed, still feigning exasperation with the girl. But when she met Chaeryeong’s eyes, doe and so full of love, she could tell the girl was hanging onto Jisu’s every word. She dropped the act and held onto Chaeryeong a little tighter. “Forever.”

There was no mention of marriage or a wedding, just a promise of forever and days where they’d hold each other and cry together and whisper secrets into each other's skin. Never would they whisper about a dream wedding from their childhood or anything specific. It never seemed like the right time, she supposes. 

“No, we haven’t. It’s been almost six years and it was never even mentioned…” Jisu whispers now, afraid to look her friends in the eye, “I just thought it wasn’t for us. We’re happy, aren’t we? I thought that was enough.” 

“It is. It is enough,” Ryujin chimes in, reaching over the table to rub at the girl’s hand. It’s a comforting gesture and she thanks her best friend for it. The younger’s eyes narrow though, almost quizzically. “But Jisu, I don’t understand. For as long as I’ve known you, marriage was something you wanted.” 

That was true, back when the two had first met in Ryujin’s freshman year, they had talked about it; what they wanted out of life, the type of person they would want that life with. Marriage was in Jisu’s future, she had explicitly said so and even named a few things she thought would be cool for when she got married. Her mom had kept her dress from her big day to pass down to Jisu whenever she was ready. She was excited for marriage, she really was. 

Ryujin, on the other hand, didn’t think marriage was really in the cards for her. When Jisu had asked her why, the younger had shrugged and said:

“I don’t know, it doesn’t seem necessary. It doesn’t mean I’ll love my partner any less. If I can just go home to them everyday and love them and be content with it all, then it would be enough for me.” 

Yeji knew that when they started dating and also didn’t really want to get married. The pair have been together for four years now, and Ryujin often tells Jisu how happy she still is everyday. She still doesn’t want to get married, neither of them do, but they know that they want to spend their lives together. So Jisu knows that when Ryujin asks her this, it doesn't come from a place of contempt, but genuine confusion. Jisu has never been one to stray away from her plan, it may be the only reason she has gotten so far in life when others couldn’t. So she understands; Ryujin just wants to know what made her change her mind. 

If she’s being honest, she isn’t sure. It’s just a feeling, but it’s one she can’t quite shake. It’s paralyzing almost in the way it consumes her, leaving her unable to reach out to Chaeryeong, or do anything to fix things between them. She knows things can’t stay like this for much longer, she’s hardly keeping it together now. But she also wouldn’t know where to start. It is just a feeling after all.

“I do want to get married. I think. It’s just…” Jisu starts, playing with the handle of her coffee mug, “Marriage with Chaeryeong scares me. I don’t know why but it does.” 

Yeji and Ryujin share this brief look that Jisu almost doesn’t catch. Jisu knows they’re having a conversation she isn’t privy to and it bugs her. Yeji speaks first, “Just Chaeryeong?”

Jisu opens her mouth to protest; she wants to say _No, of course not just Chaeryeong._ But as she thinks about it, she realizes she doesn't want anyone other than Chaeryeong, so it couldn’t be anyone _but_ Chaeryeong. Jisu swallows thickly and nods.

The eldest girl’s voice takes on a softer tone as she stares at Jisu with sad eyes. She places her hand over Jisu’s in what is supposed to be a comforting gesture, like Ryujin had, but it feels like anything but to the younger. It feels like pity and Jisu doesn’t need any more of that, she has enough all on her own. 

“Don’t you love her still?” Yeji questions. 

She soon realizes that she shouldn’t have when Jisu snatches her hand away and asks why she would _ever_ ask her that. Ryujin jumps at the suddenness of the action and the tone of her best friend’s voice at her girlfriend. Jisu wants to apologize, but she doesn’t have it in her. She has to save all of her apologies for Chaeryeong, she knows this, so maybe that’s why her blood boils at Yeji’s question. 

How can she, even for a second, think that Jisu doesn’t love Chaeryeong anymore? Not wanting to get married doesn’t disparage their love, or any love, the couple in front of her are a very clear example of that. 

“Of course I do! This isn’t a question about whether I still love her or not,” Jisu admonishes, trying not to let the lump growing in her throat show through her voice, “She is everything to me, Yeji, everything.”

“So why is it just Chaeryeong? Why can’t you fathom marrying her?” Yeji shoots back, just as defensive. “Jisu, I don’t say this to make you feel bad, but…Don’t you care how Chaeryeong feels? After your first date, she came back to our apartment and told me that she wanted to _marry_ you. She was so serious about it too. She had never even thought about marriage before she met you. Don’t you care at all?”

Jisu feels the lump in her throat grow until she can feel it in the wetness of her eyes. Ryujin has her hand on Yeji’s shoulder, stopping her from saying any more. But Yeji’s eyes still hold something strong in them. It reminds Jisu that Yeji isn’t fighting _her,_ she’s fighting for her best friend. It’s the same way Jisu is fighting for her girlfriend, the love of her life; holding onto anything she can and willing to destroy anything in her path to do so. 

But Jisu hasn’t held a real conversation with Chaeryeong in days, she hasn’t seen her for more than a moment in nearly two weeks. She is tired and she misses her girlfriend and she just wants it to stop. She can’t help the sob that leaves her mouth. 

“What if it doesn’t work out? What if it’s not for us? I don’t want to lose her, Yeji. I can’t lose her.” 

“Jisu, you already are.”

––

Chaeryeong is crying in their bed when Jisu gets home a few nights later. 

All of the lights had been off when Jisu walked in the front door; she assumed Chaeryeong hadn’t come home yet so she didn’t rush herself, hoping maybe she’d catch the younger girl on her way in. 

After a while though, she realized that Chaeryeong probably just wasn’t coming home tonight. She would cry, but she figured she was all cried out. There were no more tears left, they were back at the 24-hour diner and on Ryujin’s couch after they had gone back to the couple’s apartment to “talk” more. Talking was just Jisu emptying her heart out on Ryujin’s shoulder as she cried, and Yeji apologizing for making her cry. 

What Jisu was too tired to say was that Yeji didn’t make her cry. It wasn’t Yeji’s fault she was woefully emotionally inept. That was all her. 

But as Jisu neared their bedroom door and heard the sobs rip from her girlfriend’s throat, undoubtedly, because of _her,_ the tears came easily. The sound bounds through her and it almost makes her turn back around, leave down the stairs so she doesn’t have to face the mess she’s made, so she doesn’t have to see the hurt she’s caused. 

It takes everything in her to stay firm in her spot, slowly opening the door and confirming what she thought she’d heard. There Chaeryeong is, on the edge of their bed, head in her hands as soft cries leave her mouth. The door creaks, a hinge they said they’d oil a long time ago and then never did, alerting Chaeryeong of Jisu’s presence. 

It’s sad to say that Jisu likes the look in her girlfriend’s eyes. It’s hurt, so clearly it’s hurt, but it bleeds in a way that let’s Jisu know Chaeryeong still cares. In a way Jisu needed because otherwise, she wouldn’t have the courage to step closer to the girl and pull her into her arms.

She waits, in case Chaeryeong truly doesn’t want this, but the girl just settles further into the embrace. She tucks her face into Jisu’s neck and cries and cries and cries, hands gripping at the ends of Jisu’s shirt drifting between pulling and pushing her away. 

And Jisu holds her through it all, willing herself not to cry anymore, she doesn’t deserve it. She rubs small circles on Chaeryeong’s side like she used to on the nights the younger had trouble falling asleep, shushing her cries every now and then until Chaeryeong raises her head with a sniffle.

“Baby?” Jisu says, not sure of what else to say in the face of the love of her life’s splotchy, tear-streaked cheeks that she can hardly stand to look at. 

“I’m–” Chaeryeong starts, then stops as she begins to stutter, unable to find her words between the sobs. 

Jisu pulls her closer against her, kissing the crown of the younger’s head. “Hey, slower, my love. It’s okay, I’m here.” 

The girl half cries, half sighs and leans further into Jisu. Jisu feels each of Chaeryeong’s cries on her own body as she holds her and it hurts Jisu, but it also feels right to be so close to her again. It’s a bittersweet feeling, to have the love of her life in her arms again after a week of not being able to, but she’s crying and it’s Jisu’s fault and there’s so much hurt filling the room. It’s overwhelming, Jisu’s choking on it and she decides never again, this can’t happen to them ever again. 

It takes a little while longer for Chaeryeong to calm down enough to the point of forming sentences, time that Jisu takes to think of what to say, and at this point, she’ll say anything. She’ll _do_ anything to fix them.

“We can get married, Ryeongie,” Is what she settles on. Chaeryeong sniffles, still not pulling herself away from Jisu. 

“But is that what you want?” She whispers, lips brushing over Jisu’s neck as she speaks. 

Jisu nods, hand coming up to stroke Chaeryeong’s hair. “Yes, I’d do anything for us.” 

“I’m so sorry, Jisu,” The younger rubs at her eyes with her sleeves like a little kid would after being scorned, “I’m so sorry.”

That doesn’t sound right. Jisu shakes her head,“Why are _you_ sorry—” 

“Jisu, I’m so sorry, but I am so fucking angry.”

Despite her words, Chaeryeong doesn’t _sound_ angry, she just sounds sad. Somehow, that feels worse. Jisu moves to disentangle them, but Chaeryeong’s hold on her tightens and she shakes her head. “No, no. Like this, please.” 

Jisu wants to push them apart so she can look at the girl’s face while she tells her what she did wrong. She wants to memorize the hurt and the tears so that she’ll remember to never do it again. She wants to be better for the both of them. She wants to see Chaeryeong. 

She nods anyway, telling Chaeryeong that it’s okay. The room seems to get colder as she waits for her girlfriend to continue, her heart sits in her throat and on the floor and in the palms of Chaeryeong’s hands. 

“Do you remember our first date?” Jisu finds herself nodding again. Of course she does, she remembers all the days leading up to it after Chaeryeong had bravely asked her out after one of their K-drama marathons. “I had never really cared for marriage much. It wasn’t something that particularly interested me. If my partner wanted to get married, then I’d want to too. And if they didn’t, then neither would I. But after our first date… I just–I was so enamored with you. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I told myself that I would marry you. 

“And I’ve held true to this idea in my head, without ever mentioning it to you, I realized. It was just this notion that had been building over the years–one day we would get married. It took me a few days to sort it out, but when I was at Chaeyeon’s house, she sat me down and asked if I had ever told you any of this. Funny enough, I hadn’t,” Another sniffle and a reassuring squeeze from Jisu, “I realized that I couldn’t really be mad at you for not giving me something you had no idea I wanted. And some nights ago, I wanted to come home and tell you this so that we could finally settle this. I’ve missed you so much, it’s physically hurt me, my love. I couldn’t wait to come and see you again, feel you again, talk to you again. But before I had the chance to, I spoke with Ryujin.”

Now, Chaeryeong pulls herself away from Jisu. Her eyes are puffy and teary, lips downturned into a shaky frown. She looks too tired to be angry and thus she’s resigned herself to sorrow. It hurts in ways Jisu could never have imagined. 

“I thought that if you didn’t want to get married, I would be okay with that. I don’t need marriage, I really don't. But I had to learn from Ryujin that you _did_ in fact want to get married. Just…not to me?” 

She says the last part like a question, almost as if she has trouble believing it herself. Jisu opens her mouth to tell her that’s not true, but Chaeryeong continues before she can. 

“I had way too much time to think. It festered into something so unpretty. I thought about how you didn’t even try. How you didn’t look for me or reach out to when I was gone. You didn’t ask for me anywhere, not even more than a single text to see how I’m doing. You stayed inside your comfort zone as you always do, waiting for me to pull you out. 

“And I know you have this _plan._ I know that it’s everything to you, but where do I fit into this plan? It seems like you never really planned for me, or someone like me. I don’t really know if you wanted me at all. Like even after we became serious, you still didn’t try to incorporate me, or our future, into this plan of yours. So if this plan means everything to you then why am I not in it, Jisu? Why…Am I not important enough? I don’t understand. 

“I don’t need marriage if that’s not what you want, Jisu, but I do need to know that you’re sure. I need to know that I’m not always going to be forgotten for this preconceived idea you have in your head about how things should go. This isn’t just your life anymore, Jisu. Why am I not a part of your plan? Why do you keep counting me out?” 

When Chaeryeong has said all she can say, they are both biting back sobs. And strangely, Jisu finds comfort in that. _This_ is the Chaeryeong she knows, outspoken and so raw with her feelings; almost too raw, too honest with her words even when she says them kindly. 

For a moment, Jisu says nothing. She fears that if she were to open her mouth right now, nothing but the ugliest sound would come out. She takes a deep breath. 

“I’m just so _scared,_ Ryeong,” Jisu starts, eyes not meeting her girlfriend’s, “It’s not that I don’t want to get married to you. It can’t be anyone _but_ you. You are the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. But somewhere along the way, marriage became so daunting of an idea, and isn’t that silly as we’re practically married already? I just–I don’t want anything to change. We had fallen into this rhythm and it felt so–” 

“Real?” Chaeryeong cuts in. 

“Us,” Jisu answers, “It felt so very us. I don’t know how marriage could change or disrupt that. I’m just scared, Chaeryeong. I _can’t–”_

She stops herself, finding it hard to talk around the lump building in her throat. _I can't lose you,_ is what she wants to say. Chaeryeong’s hand finds its way over Jisu’s until their fingers are laced together on the bed, it’s a silent answer to her unspoken statement. 

“You could have told me. We could have talked about this more,” She says calmly, raising Jisu’s hand in hers to leave butterfly kisses on the back of it in the way that’s always called Jisu down. 

“I know, I know. I’m just so bad at saying how I feel. I’ve come to rely on you to do it for me and I’m so sorry for that,” Jisu gasps out, clawing at the tears leaving her eyes with her free hand, “Chaeryeong, I don’t think loving you, the way I do, was something I could have ever planned for in a million years and I think I am most sorry for that.” 

Chaeryeong has a hard time concealing the shock on her face as it’s one of the rare times Jisu openly confesses without prompt, the realization pains Jisu more. Chaeryeong’s eyes have gone soft around the edges and she knows she accepts her apology, but Jisu still can’t believe she let it get his bad. She can’t help the cry that leaves her body. 

It’s a salty kiss that calms Jisu’s sobs; nothing more than Chaeryeong’s lips pressed against hers, featherlight and short, but it helps. She kisses her till she’s docile and hiccuping out her last cries, sleepy from the tears and curling herself into Chaeryeong’s side. Jisu knows Chaeryeong is too good to her, she is too understanding and kind when she probably shouldn’t be. 

“I will do better,” Jisu whispers out, hoping it reaches Chaeryeong’s ears. 

It does, and Chaeryeong pulls her closer to kiss her tear-streaked cheeks softly, whispering back _I know, I know._ They’ll talk about what it is they want together because Chaeryeong’s right, it isn’t _just_ Jisu’s life anymore. It’s theirs, their future, and they can only be happy together if they’re able to communicate when things get tough. No more avoiding the problem. No more running away. 

-

When Jisu was younger, she thought baking was the loveliest thing in the world. There was nothing that made her happier than feeling the flour between her fingers as she helped her mom in the kitchen. On those Sunday mornings when there was nothing she’d rather do than make a walnut pie, or a birthday cake, or cookies. 

But as she grew up, she learned that there are things lovelier than baking, things she would live and die for. Chaeryeong happens to be one of those things. 

Jisu has never felt love like this before, entirely too focused on other things, more important things. Passing her classes, learning new recipes, making sure her business takes off. In truth, Jisu has planned every detail of her life. She has taken every precaution and never deviated. But she knows that there is no plan for this part. 

She is learning to take every moment kindly; every kiss, every touch, every sweet nothing. She learns to revel in this love, it is too pure not to. 

It’s profound how hard her heart beats in her chest at littlest things and at the grandest of things. How she braves conversations about their feelings with a newfound bravado, spilling her heart to the love of her life without hesitation. She knows she’s still a work in progress, it’s hard to shake the rigidness of a lifelong plan in just months, but Jisu tries her best every day to live as she pleases, without restrictions. She’s happier for it. 

It’s a Sunday and the couple are trying to master some lavender macarons for Yuna’s housewarming. It’s a lot harder to do with someone as impatient and heavy handed as Chaeryeong, but they make do. 

“How long is this going to take?” The ginger murmurs, head resting on Jisu’s shoulder. She snakes her arms around her waist as Jisu taps the pan onto the counter a few times to let the batter settle. 

Jisu chuckles fondly at the girl in her ear, “A very long time.” 

The groan that leaves Chaeryeong’s mouth is nothing short of dramatic. She fits herself more snugly into Jisu’s space, “Then can I at least try the filling?” 

It’s at that moment that Jisu is hit with something so groundbreakingly tender and warm and full of love for the girl holding onto her. 

Jisu turns in Chaeryeong’s arms and peers up at her, taking in how quickly her lips turn down as she wipes a stray tear from Jisu’s cheek.

“Why are you crying, love?” Chaeryeong pouts, still thumbing at the girl’s wet cheeks which only makes Jisu want to cry harder. She pulls Jisu closer to herself, and the older buries her head into the crook of her shoulders. 

She marvels at her girlfriend who is ever caring where it matters. The messy bed, the dirty floors, the mucked up table—none of it matters. 

But this, them. It is all that matters. 

“I’m just so happy,” Jisu finally says. 

“You’re crying because you’re happy?” Chaeryeong scoffs, but doesn’t pull away or remove her hands from the girl’s face.

“I’m crying because I love you. I’m happy I love you. I’m happy you love me back.” 

“Oh…Oh, well now I’m gonna cry too,” Chaeryeong sniffles, already wiping at her eyes that began to tear up. “Of course I love you. Please don’t cry.”

“You don’t cry!”


End file.
